Acceptance
by fanta-faerie
Summary: Draco Malfoy regrets the choices he made in his youth, if only to spare his son the consequences.


The first time Draco Malfoy held his newborn son was the greatest moment of his life.

He was tiny- a tad premature- had a bright red face, the trademark Malfoy hair, and was squalling so loudly he felt tempted to put a silencing charm on him.

But since that moment, that very first moment when Healer Abbott smilingly placed that baby in his arms, Draco Malfoy fell head over heels.

He loved every part of his son- the tiny open mouth, the small, delicate fingernails, the eyes that weren't quite yet open, the small birthmark on his upper back…every single minute part was what made Scorpius Malfoy _his _and he loved him for it.

When Scorpius was five, Draco bought him his first broom.

It was a handsome thing, with gold inlay and a tiny little seat perfect for him to perch on. Scorpius had the time of his life zooming around the Manor on it, crashing into antiques, upsetting the house elves, and being a general nuisance to his mother.

Draco couldn't help but laugh at the look of utter glee on his tiny face- one that already resembled his father's- and wrapped his arms around Astoria as she cried out unheeded warnings to their rambunctious child.

"He's not a Slytherin," She told him that night as they lay in bed. Her head was lying on his chest and her fingers were playing through his hair and he could feel her voice as it reverberated inside of him.

He was silent for a long moment before he kissed her head, tugging his wife closer to him.

"I know."

Scorpius was eight when he was first allowed into Diagon Alley.

For about the first twenty minutes everything was okay and Draco breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that on this one day with his son fate was on his side.

It was as he was buying Scorpius ice cream from Florean's that his worst fears came to pass.

The whispered mutterings of a group of men on the far side of the shop did not go unnoticed by either Malfoy, and while Draco simply stiffened his shoulders and slid a couple extra sickles towards the bar, Scorpius tugged on his father's arm, pointing in childlike innocence.

"Those men are talking about you, Father! What are they saying?" He asked, young voice curious.

Draco tried to sweep the question aside and pull his son under his arm, but one of the men got to his feet and walked towards them, jostling Draco so that he fell against the bar, shoulder hitting the cold granite with a thud.

"Hey! Aren't you going to apologize?" Scorpius asked indignantly when the man kept walking.

"It's okay son, let's just leave-" But Draco was cut off as the man replied, turning to the tiny family.

"The only thing I'm sorry for is that it wasn't hard enough to rip that filth from your arm." The man said coldly, looking at Draco through narrowed eyes.

It took Draco three minutes to gather his son and apparate back to the Manor, but four hours to stop cursing his arm in an effort to remove the black stain tattooed on it.

He spent the rest of the day with his head in Astoria's lap, wishing that his son didn't have to bear the stigma of the Malfoy name.

It was the night before Scorpius left to Hogwarts that Draco and Astoria sat him down and told him the story of the Second Wizarding War.

They left nothing out- no deception, no lie, no betrayal. They did not embellish or withhold, but told the story flatly and with little emotion.

When it was over, Astoria hugged her son, looked at her husband with sad, sad eyes, and left the room.

It was silent.

Then Draco spoke.

"Son…you are leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow. And I wanted you to understand the role that your family played in the war. I was weak- I am weak- but you have no idea how much I regret what I have done, if only to spare you from the consequences of my own actions. "

Scorpius doesn't reply, and soon Draco rises, lifts a hand to touch his son, but wavers.

Then he drops it and leaves.

They find out through a letter from Astoria's sister who has a daughter two years older than Scorpius, that he has been sorted into Ravenclaw.

They also find out that his dorm mate is Albus Potter, and for the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy is terrified.

He spends every waking moment worrying about his son- whether he is teased, whether he is bullied, whether the Potter child is making his son's life a living hell- for no matter how many letters Draco and Astoria write, Scorpius never replies.

He will never admit how much that kills him inside.

Because Draco is used to it, all of it. The stares, the whispers, the occasional 'accidental' hex that comes flying his way. He accepts it and moves on, knowing that it is the price he must pay for the choices he made in his youth.

In the beginning he tried to justify himself, saying that he was young, that he didn't know better, that he only followed what he had been taught his entire life.

But then he remembered the hundred of other students- children, really- who died in that last battle fighting for the _right _side- and he quiets.

But this- this tear in his heart from the rejection of his son- this he is not used to.

When he proposed to Astoria, he told her everything. He warned her that by accepting him, she would also be condemning herself to a life of shame.

He has never loved her more than when she threw herself at him and kissed him on the lips, forever silencing his belief that he would never again be loved.

When she told him she was pregnant, he was both ecstatic and scared- ecstatic that his little family was growing, and scared that his son would grow to reject him, to never need him, to never love him.

For regardless of all of the treachery, of all the lies and terrible deeds and cruel words, the Malfoys have loved each other with all their heart, willing to die in a second to save each other.

That his parents loved him, Draco has never doubted.

That his son loves him, Draco does not know.

When the train carrying students home for Christmas holidays arrives, Draco skulks behind the crowds; unsure if whether or not Scorpius is among them.

When he catches sight of a familiar head of white-blond hair, his heart gives a great leap and even the Potter-Weasley family reunion has nothing on the way Draco Malfoy runs to his son, clutching at his small frame as if he will be swept away forever.

Draco Malfoy cries for the first time in seventeen years when his son pulls away and looks up at him, clear blue eyes determined as he speaks.

"It's okay. I still love you. And you're not weak."

He is discreetly wiping his face when Potter's son materializes out of nowhere and grabs Scorpius' hand, pulling him towards his family.

"Come on, come on! You have to meet them!" Albus Potter is saying as Scorpius latches onto his father's hand as well, dragging him with them.

A very awkward silence ensues as Albus introduces his friend to his parents, Draco not knowing exactly where to look.

It is only when Harry claps him on the back and smiles that Draco has the courage to look up, meeting his old rival's eyes for the first time in years.

When Harry invites Draco over for lunch sometime during the break on the pretense of getting to know Scorpius, Draco's pride is bruised and he can feel the old him rising up again, a familiar sneer starting to form on his face.

But then he catches sight of his son's laughing face as he wrestles with Albus against a pillar in the station and it melts, leaving behind a better man.

And he agrees, shaking Harry's hand and calls for his son.

They leave the station with Scorpius' arm tucked securely in his father's and Draco had never known that acceptance was the best feeling of all.

* * *

**Draco has always intrigued me- I've never been sure of whether he was inherently good or bad, and the love in his family has always made me wonder if it was simply circumstance and the environment that he grew up in that determined the role he played in the war. **

**Please review! :) Thank you!**


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